What Might Be
by Sakiku
Summary: Kyuubi makes Naruto kill all of his former teammates. Afterwards, Naruto doesn't want to live anymore, but to his horror, he has to realize that Kyuubi has made him nigh immortal...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

Once again a new story. But this time, the idea for it isn't mine. All credit goes to Holy Chaos author) with the story 'Future Paths'. It's an outstanding one, so I can only tell you to read it – if you haven't already. This fanfiction though can also be read separately.

**Disclaimer:**

Don't own Naruto, and neither the vision that has sparked this story. Credit goes to Masashi Kishimoto and Holy Chaos, respectively.

* * *

**What Might Be**

He has tried killing himself so often that he has lost count. Poison, drowning, starvation. He has tried anything he could think of. But his amazing regenerative powers, the ones that have made him such an exceptional ninja, have become his downfall. They keep him alive whenever his will doesn't.

And then, there is the beast in his stomach. The beast within him that refuses to let him die because it would die together with him. But he can't let it win. He can't let it have the last say in his fate. He can't let it dictate his life by making him immortal. So he merely sits there, waiting for the beast's power to wane throughout the years.

He has been sitting there for a long time, always hearing the beast growl within him, but never moving to obey its command. The one time he has given in to its voice, he had killed his friends.

His plan had been very risky: He had known that Konoha would never get peace with Akatsuki still on the hunt for him and the other tailed demons. So he had searched them out on his own, thinking that while they were busy freeing his demon, them tampering with his seal would grant him enough power to take them out in one swoop. He had trusted in Yondaime's sealing abilities to keep the beast from escaping, and his trust had been proven true. Despite a great weakening in the seal's structure, the beast was still caged within him.

But he should have told someone where he was going. As soon as Akatsuki had started working on his seal, more and more of the demon had bled into his mind. When the rescue team from Konoha – his former team members, and team 8 – had appeared, he had already been too far gone. The beast had taken over his consciousness and had blissfully swallowed him whole. The last thing he remembered was Kakashi-sensei's horrified expression.

When he had woken again, he had been standing in a spray of blood, tasting red liquid between his teeth, smelling its metallic scent in the air. In front of him, there had been a crater of epic proportions. In his hands, there had been a single hitae-ate. It had been a hitae-ate he was very familiar with, having inflicted the scratch through the leaf spiral himself. A few bluish-black hairs were still clinging to it, and he had let out a howl of unbearable pain and agony in recognition.

Then, he had run.

He had run as far as his feet were able to carry him, and then some more. He had kept on running until his body had collapsed upon itself in the woods, far from his home in Konoha. That had been the first time he had almost succeeded in killing himself. But the beast had lent him its stamina. While he had been too exhausted to move for a week, it hadn't killed him.

He had been left alive with the knowledge of having murdered his friends.

When he had found enough strength to get up again, he had started wandering aimlessly because he didn't want to be tracked down by Konoha or any other ninja. He was too dangerous.

During his travels, he had tried several other ways of ending his life. Slitting his wrists, ingesting poisons, stabbing his heart, drowning himself in rivers. Any combination thereof. But every time, he had been thwarted by the beast within his stomach. The weakened seal had given it more power over his body, and it had healed him every single time.

So he had taken to starvation. After three days of neither eating nor drinking anything, his tongue was horribly swollen, his dried-out eyes refused to work properly, and his breath was rasping painfully in his throat. Whenever he could, he was staggering on, and whenever he couldn't, he was just lying there. After a week of no water, he was still alive. A feverish delirium made his thoughts hazy, but he was undeniably alive. The beast kept his body going far beyond any human capabilities.

Two weeks, and his body was getting thinner, his strength waning as he refused to take any nourishment. Three weeks, and he was still waiting for death. He had become used to his swollen tongue, his raspy throat, his empty stomach. And he was still moving, by now far away from any ninja countries, barely more than a skeleton covered in rags and brittle skin.

Four weeks. He was still waiting.

After five weeks, he lost count. It was getting colder, but the ice didn't kill him, either. His hair had grown so long that he was living in a permanent twilight of shadows, never aware of the pitying stares he was grazed with. And despite the lack of food, his body was slowly maturing into a man's. His bones became longer, his chin sharper, his barely-used voice deeper.

When it was getting warmer once again, he was still alive, and the beast within him was still growling. One day, the man merely sat down and refused to move. He was dimly aware that he was sitting against a wall, a small town surrounding him, but that wasn't important. His bony knees huddled to his chest, he sometimes looked at the world through the long bangs shadowing his eyes.

He was waiting for death to claim him.

People occasionally threw coins into the dirt in front of him, thinking him a beggar. He never picked them up; others did. One day, someone placed a small bowl in front of him in hope he might collect the coins and take better care of himself, but he refused to take the money. He was no more than dry, cracking skin spanning tightly over bony shadows, but he was still refused to die.

Day by day, coins were clattering into his bowl, and night by night, other beggars and thieves took them once again. Only when someone wanted to take his bowl, too, did he look up. He felt the beast surge against the weak remnants of the seal, and when he saw out of his own eyes again, he was drenched in blood. The bowl was still standing in front of him.

Days were turning into months, months into years, and he was still sitting there, never moving. Only few people still threw him coins; most saw him as no more than an ingeniously crafted statue. Buildings were falling and growing around him, and he was still waiting for death to take him.

There was a point down the decades when nobody took notice of him anymore, and he lost himself. Around him, the town was growing, changing, slowly forgetting him as he forgot himself.

Now, he lives in a timeless void. His thoughts have withered as much as his body has. He is like an animal that has lied down to die. Nothing can move him. The world around him is turning, but he doesn't participate anymore. Life is lost to him.

Wooden houses have changed into stone ones, simple oxen-driven carts into steam and electricity powered ones, but he does not really see any of it. He doesn't notice the language grow and change gradually around him. Every now and then, words reach his ears, but they have lost all meaning. In his mind, he already is dead although his body refuses to die. And the seal on his stomach is still sustaining him with the strength of the beast.

The formerly clean, fresh air has turned heavy, choked with dust and fumes, making him cough every once in a while. Sometimes, the ground is trembling, but he doesn't care. Sometimes, the beast is growling, but he doesn't even curse its gift of immortality anymore. Within his timeless void, he can feel it getting weaker, having to sustain his life for such a long time, and he patiently waits for the last of its strength to seep out.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

Sometimes though, fragments of reality seep into his mind, and within his emptiness, they reverberate for a long time until they are lost once again.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

A glimpse of a little girl pointing at him, its mother ushering it away quickly.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

"Mister, are you ok?"

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

Young men dressed in the same uniforms walking down the street in lock-step, carrying long pieces of wood over their shoulders. From somewhere, he hears the word 'gun'. 'Rifle'. 'Soldier'. 'War'.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

He can feel that the atmosphere around him has changed. People are always sad now. He can smell their fear beneath ashes and gun powder.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

"… will become chancellor, and then I'll stop that war!"

Laughing of children.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

A dirty, blackened coin clattering into his bowl, the first one in years – decades? centuries? The bowl is so old that it breaks apart.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

"I'll stop the war!"

"Keep dreaming, dobe."

"Just wait and see, you bastard, I'll be chancellor one day!"

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

"I'm the future chancellor!"

A small boy with short, unruly black hair is running through the street. His limbs are smudged with blackish-brown dirt. He looks thin, frail limbs powered by graceful strength. He almost looks like…

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

A slender woman with black hair, and pale, dirty skin, crumbling onto the street. She is crying. She cradles her hands to her chest, rocking back and forth. She is thirty, maybe thirty-five.

"Why did you have to leave me, Hiroto," she moans.

It takes a long time for her to get up again. For the brief instance their gazes meet, he can see her face. Work and sorrow have wrinkled it beyond repair. He is looking into the face of an ancient woman.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

The next time he sees the boy, he looks older, maybe seven or eight. He is leading a small girl by her hand.

"You see, Michiko, there's nothing to be afraid of. Mr. Spooky won't hurt you because I'll protect you! I'm the future chancellor, and I'll stop the war!"

She presses harder into him.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

Another vision of the boy. This time, he is running from one of the uniformed men.

The boy smells scared.

The man smells of killing intent.

The next time he awakens, he smells blood on his skin and in his hair. His clothes have rotted away a long time ago. The beast's growling within him is satisfied for the moment.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

In front of him, there is the boy.

"Thank you," he says. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Spooky."

It takes days for the scent of blood to be washed away.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

"You know what happened today, Mr. Spooky? Soldiers came by our house, and Hiroshi joined them because he's old enough. Mom is still crying. I swear, when I'm chancellor, I won't let soldiers take my brother away!"

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

"Mr. Spooky, it's winter, and you can't sit in the snow without clothes. If she could see you like this, my mom would scold you! Here's a blanket; it'll keep you warm while I go to Sunday school."

The blanket smells of the boy.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

The boy is sitting next to him on the ground, not minding the wet and dirty blanket. He is crying quietly.

"You know, Mr. Spooky, today, while I was working in the factory, a soldier came by our house. He told us that Hiroshi's dead. Kaneda's scared. He's almost old enough to be drafted."

The boy swallows.

"And in three years, it'll be me…"

The beast within him growls. The boy doesn't look older than ten, eleven.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

"Akira, what are you doing? I told you to get our grocery rations!"

The boy looks up from his perch on the wet blanket, tousled black hair hanging into his sooty face. It had rained last night.

"Yes, Mom," he hollers back, "I was just telling Mr. Spooky about the nice girl who waited in front of me!"

"Come here right now! You should be working, not talking to a statue!"

The boy bristles in indignation. "Mr. Spooky's no statue!"

"Sure, whatever. Aren't you a little bit too old for such games?"

"I'm not playing games! I'm the future chancellor!"

Looking around, the boy tries to see if someone's watching. Quietly, he opens the meager bag of groceries, taking out a small, hard loaf of bread, and hides it beneath the soggy blanket.

"Here, Mr. Spooky," he whispers, "You look hungry, and I don't think you get any food stamps. You know, you gotta take care of yourself."

With those words, the boy takes off. "I'm coming, Mom!"

From far away, he can hear the woman scold the boy for bringing only four loaves of bread instead of five.

"I've already eaten mine," says the boy, "I'm not hungry anymore."

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

"Mr. Spooky! I don't know how you do it, but I can't have you bringing back your food all the time! Mom thinks I'm stealing it, and you've got to eat; you're too thin already! I know, the bread doesn't taste good, but it's the only thing I can give you. I can't have you die now because who would I tell that I've become chancellor?"

Nonetheless, the bread returns every time. The boy is too thin, too.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

The boy smells of tears.

"Sorry, Mr. Spooky, I've got to leave tomorrow. I've been drafted. Will you wait for me until I come back? I promise you, once I'm chancellor, I'll come and visit you every day.

"You know what, maybe, I'll be in Kaneda's division. Last time he wrote, he was heading for the eastern border, protect our forests from Wind's army and stuff. Those Wind guys are so greedy! First they use up all their wood, and then they want to take ours by force! It's not fair; why can't they live with what they have? When I'm chancellor, I'll never do something like that!"

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

He looks up just in time to see the boy follow a few uniformed men. The boy doesn't struggle; he merely turns around one last time and shouts. "Good bye, Mr. Spooky!"

None of them catches sight of the shadow following them.

Only few citizens notice that a small, artfully crafted statue of an emaciated man has vanished; the only thing that remains is a clean spot on the sooty ground.

After the next downpour, it is gone, too.

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**A/N:**

Any comments on this story? Then review, please! And don't forget to read Holy Chaos' story 'Future Paths', it is the one that has inspired this fanfic!

Sakiku


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

Thanks for all the great reviews! Without any further ado: here's the next chapter.

* * *

**What Might Have Been - Chapter 2**

From far away, he watches the boy. Finally, they have arrived at their destination, a large training camp somewhere near the eastern border. The ground is brown and hard, occasional dry shrubs marking that not all life has left this land. He hides himself beneath a carefully crafted genjutsu because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself.

Through forests, he had no trouble keeping up as the trees are his home. Gradually though, the land has flattened to grassy planes, and he has fallen farther behind. Sun is a country of many facets.

On several occasions, he has been forced to track day-old spoors because his starved body had refused to work properly. During especially cold nights, he wraps himself in the boy's blanket because he doesn't own any clothing. But he still has kept his vow of never eating, never drinking. As he needs more chakra now, the beast will weaken faster, and then, he will finally be allowed to die.

The soldiers have collected almost a hundred boys from different villages, herding them away in several of their oxen-less carts. In the training camp, they join up with hundreds more of them.

They are being outfitted with two standard uniforms, a dress uniform, a rations package, two knives, a gun, and ammunition. None of them has any idea how to handle the weapons.

He has found out that the oxen-less carts – cars – need wood to function because every evening during their travels, ten boys had been sent to gather old and dry branches for the engines. Although they had pretended to be cheery and brave, he had smelt the fear on them.

Eavesdropping on the soldiers in the evenings, he has overheard that he is in Sun, quite a big country compared to most of its neighbors. The only ones of a size worth mentioning are Metal to the north-west, and Spirit to the south. And of course, Wind to the east. During past decades, Sun had been to war with almost all of them. And that has taken its toll on the population. None of the new recruits is older than fifteen.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

The beast within him growls. He ignores it in favor of the pale, bloody body sprawled in front of him.

There was a surprise attack on the barracks, Wind soldiers seeking to take out all new recruits in one swoop. He had been too far away to help. When he had heard the noise of big explosions, he didn't look immediately because he had felt no foreign chakra. When he had remembered that he hasn't felt any notice-worthy chakra in a long time, not even from trainers and older soldiers, it was too late. On his arrival, the camp already was in shambles, the fires dying.

A heavy smoke-screen obscures the camp, making it hard to breathe. Many of the recruits are dead; the survivors are groaning. Nobody takes notice of him in their confusion.

The boy has been caught in the crossfire, a bullet to his stomach, one through his arm. The pale body lies limply in its own blood. If he doesn't do anything, the boy will die.

Fortunately, the abdominal injury hasn't torn any organs or major arteries, but the bullet is still in there because there is no exit wound. He knows he has to remove it. Finally, he decides on a lightening jutsu, one that he has learned during his three-year travel with Jiraya. A long sequence of hand-seals later, he builds up a strong magnetic field in his left palm, and the deformed projectile reacts.

As soon as the bullet leaves the boy's body, he rips a few strips off the blanket the boy had gifted him with, and lets his chakra flow through the fabric in the way he had been shown so long ago. He has never been a medic, but his former teammate had taught him a few tricks. The very same teammate he had killed.

The beast within him growls again, and he wraps the strips around the boy's wounds. He stays until he can see Sun reinforcements searching for survivors. Then he vanishes into the shadows once again. The healing chakra he has infused the cloth with will make sure the boy lives.

But from now on, he will stay closer.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

Underneath his concealment genjutsu, he is watching the boy, maybe fifteen years old by now, toss and turn on the hard-baked soil. The boy is huddled up against the wall of a trench he is sleeping in. Comrades are resting left and right, some of them keeping night watch. For the moment, everything is quiet. Too quiet for ears that have gotten used to constant gun-fire and explosions.

The recruits fresh out of training have been sent as reinforcements to the troops guarding Sun's borders from invading Wind attackers. Today was the boy's first real battle, and he had been forced to watch his brother die right next to him. The boy had almost been splattered with his brother's brains.

From the recruits' training he has already surmised that they have forgotten about the use of chakra, but seeing a whole battle without chakra has shown him its bloody reality. They had only fought with guns and tanks, hiding in trenches dug painfully into hard earth, and shooting everything that moved.

None of them had used taijutsu. It had been a long-range battle.

None of them had used ninjutsu. There hadn't been any genjutsu, either. Merely bullets and grenades and faceless masses pitted against each other.

But it is healing jutsu he has missed the most. Any injuries are treated with knives, prongs and disinfectant, and then left to heal on their own. Nobody has tried mending tears with chakra. Instead they are sutured closed.

That time during training, when he had dressed the boy's wounds, the medic that had taken care of the boy had scowled at the slightly dirty bandages, saying something about 'unsanitary' and 'a wonder he hasn't gotten any infections'. They had never noticed that the chakra within the strips had prevented any infection and accelerated recovery several times.

He doesn't know what he should think of this world without chakra. He doesn't know what he should think of this time that sends young children to war with almost no training.

He watches the boy toss and turn, and finally, he casts a small sleeping genjutsu over him. Perhaps that way, the boy will rest better. There is nothing he can do to ease the boy's mind.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

He has lost count of the weeks, months the boy has been fighting a war for his country. Sun has awarded him the rank of captain for that. The boy's formerly innocent features have matured, a stronger chin, cheeks loosing their chubby padding. But the eyes are the ones that have aged the most. They have been hardened by watching death all around him. He can't remember when the boy has smiled the last time.

Hiding himself behind bushes, he slowly trails along with the boy's division. They are moving farther up north, where forests reach almost to the border. This is where Wind has been attacking most viciously. Wind has very few burnable resources, so they anxiously try to get any wood they can. Even if it means invading a neighboring country.

They currently are walking through dense underbrush and weeds, vegetation that looks as if there had been a big forest fire several years ago. All trees are barely more than saplings, so quick-growing bushes have taken over. There is enough cover for him, so he doesn't even bother using a concealing genjutsu.

Suddenly, a shot rings through the air, quickly followed by three more. He is close enough to see the division's commander and two colonels break down with a clean headshot. Another is injured critically. All soldiers in the vicinity throw themselves behind cover, trying to make out where the shots came from. The first lieutenant colonel goes down. Apparently, all high ranks are targeted to increase confusion.

The beast is growling. He doesn't have any problems with locating the assassin, the bullets having given him enough indication as to where the sniper is hidden. Almost on their own, his feet pad soundlessly over twigs and greenery, his arms guiding branches silently around his body to make him flow through the woods like a wraith.

From behind, he catches sight of the assassin, a medium-sized man with camouflage-colored clothes. The man lies upon a rock, calmly adjusting his rifle to focus upon his next target. He has chosen an excellent vantage point: cleverly hidden by foliage, yet having almost clear view of the whole trail. None of the soldiers is even close to locating the danger they all are in.

Ghosting closer, he follows the sniper's line of sight – only to come up with a familiar, messy, black mop of hair.

Once again, the beast surges abruptly from its confines, and this time, he agrees with its anger.

When he can think clearly once again, he realizes that he is unfamiliar with his surroundings. He isn't anywhere near the assassin anymore. And he is wearing clothes.

Ever since his old ones had fallen off his body from old age, he hasn't made any attempts to look for clothing. The blanket the boy – young man – had gifted him with had been enough for him.

Now though, he can feel the chafe of loose, camouflage-colored fabric against his skin, and it doesn't feel bad. The shirt hangs from his bony shoulders, and a strip of blanket is holding up his pants. He must have discarded the muddy remainders of his blanket somewhere along his path.

He looks around and sniffs the air. A stale scent of fear and gun-powder lingers in the woods. He can't have run too far then. Almost absent-mindedly, he picks the blood from under his fingernails while he stretches his chakra sense.

There.

The boy's division, maybe an hour away to the north.

Soundlessly, his presence vanishes from the small clearing, leaving behind only a few rustling leaves.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

The beast's growls have become steadily more insistent. He knows that he will have to make a decision, soon. He cannot live off the beast's chakra forever because even its seemingly unlimited resources are getting thin.

From what he has overheard, he has been waiting for death for almost three centuries, and three hundred years of keeping a malnourished, failing body alive has weakened the beast considerably. Not to mention all those times he has used its chakra without giving his body anything to replenish it with.

The boy, no, the young man, is almost twenty, and he has been watching over him ever since he was recruited into the army. He has risen quickly in ranks, having gained the title of colonel and his own brigade of men.

Others call the boy 'Akira with the golden luck' because he has survived so many ordeals others have not. Strange miracles also tend to happen in the golden boy's vicinity. Several enemy troops waiting in ambush have been found dead, mauled by vicious animals. Other times, enemies simply looked at him and his men without seeing them.

They are the only brigade in the army that has won more battles than they lost.

The beast within him growls again. He knows that if he wants to continue watching over the boy – young man – he will have to give up his death wish.

For three hundred years, the beast has been suffering together with him, and sometimes, he can feel its worry. For a creature that is nigh immortal, it must be disconcerting to watch more and more of its power bleed away uselessly until it is no more than a shadow of its former glory. Perhaps it is time to visit it once again within its sealed cage.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

Biting into an apple, he watches the parade from one of the surrounding roofs. Soleil, the capital of Sun, glows brightly in the afternoon light.

He has finally cut his hair and gotten himself different clothes, and he sometimes talks to people again.

The beast within him has been quiet for the last few years. It is sleeping, recovering from three hundred years of exhausting its powers. Sad to note that all that had been because of a misunderstanding.

On that fateful day with the Akatsuki, the fox had directed all its anger towards Akatsuki members. But Sasuke, obsessed as he was, had jumped into the fray without thought. He had wanted to kill his brother Itachi himself, so, in his single-mindedness, he had overlooked the real danger. He had been impaled on a chakra-filled tail together with his brother. Sakura had killed herself through chakra-exhaustion, trying to heal Sasuke's fatal wound.

The beast doesn't know what had happened to Kakashi, his sensei, but it cannot recall killing him or Team 8. He believes it.

He almost smiles as he looks down onto the parade uniforms of the Golden Brigade, as it has been named. His young man, almost 24 now, is marching right in front of them, having been made commander of the brigade many years ago.

People are cheering, whistles are blowing. It is a celebration of the likes Soleil hasn't seen for years. All houses have been cleaned from the ever-present soot, and they have been decorated with boughs, ribbons, flowers, and flags. They are gleaming in the sun almost as much as their inhabitants who are wearing their best clothes.

He pretends not to notice that those cheering the soldiers on are women, children, elderly, and cripples. There barely are any men in the crowd; all boys have been recruited as soldiers very early on. And now, the Golden Brigade has returned victoriously. Although there are many smiles, there also are tears of mothers looking for their sons and not finding them, wives searching futilely for their husbands.

The Golden Brigade has single-handedly managed to secure the eastern border from Wind invaders, but there were heavy losses within their ranks. Of five thousand soldiers that were present at the brigade's founding six years ago, only two thousand have returned.

He watches the young man walk up to a grand set of stairs, slowly climbing it while the soldiers behind him have moved to attention position. On top of the stairs, in front of a richly ornamented façade, an elderly, grey-haired man in long, golden robes is waiting. Behind him, in a half-circle, twelve other men are standing in oddly-colored robes. Even from a distance, the chancellor and his council are an impressive sight.

The chancellor is the spokesman for Amaterasu, the goddess of sun and light, and each of the council members represents one of the twelve holy animals. They are the ones who are responsible for leading this country and its armies.

Climbing the last few steps, the young man walks towards the chancellor and bows deeply. He speaks a few words that are carried to the public by huge metallic boxes called 'amplifiers'.

"Your Excellency, your soldiers have returned."

To his surprise, the chancellor bows back. It is not as deep and long as the young man has bowed, but for the spokesman of Amaterasu to show his respect to anyone, something great must have happened.

He takes another bite from his apple. The roof he is standing on is quite far away from the podium with all those important people; however, his eyes are as good as ever, and those amplifiers carry every spoken word to the crowd.

"Colonel Akira Minamoto. We want to thank you and your men in the name of all people in Sun for your heroic efforts. With unrelenting determination, you have protected our lands and our forests. You have given us enough strength to make a stand of our own once again."

One of the councilors in green robes steps forward and bows, first towards the chancellor, then to the young man. He reaches into the folds of his robe and presents whatever he has fond in there to the chancellor. Taking the object into his own hands, the chancellor waits for green-robe to join the half-circle again. Then, the chancellor advances towards the young man and fastens the object on his uniform, right over his heart.

"For those heroic efforts, you are allowed to all yourself General Minamoto Akira from now on."

He can't see the young man's face from his roof because he has chosen his position to keep an eye on the council members. Not all of them look as happy as he cheering crowd. They know it is not a far step anymore from general to councilor, especially when having gained the chancellor's favor. All councilors are appointed by the chancellor; most come from a few select families that have brought forth councilors for generations, but exceptions are known to be made. And being in the council is no lifetime assignment. So they rightfully are afraid of the young, upshot general.

Taking a last bite from his apple, he chucks its core away into a seemingly random direction. Maybe the young man will be able to make his dreams come true after all.

Leaving the dirty roof as unseen as he has appeared on it, he vanishes into the crowd.

Days later, a few children investigate a strange smell from one of the surrounding alleys. They discover a dead man, lying face-down in soot and mud.

After a routine autopsy, the doctors decide that he must have been hit on his temple by a blunt, irregularly formed object, robbing him of consciousness. Cause of death was a fall from several stories, probably a roof. Why the man was on the roof and what he was hit by though remains a mystery. The long rifle on the rooftop had vanished a long time ago, and nobody had taken notice of a smashed apple-core at the crime scene. It had been bloody on one side.

* * *

**A/N:**

As usual, any comments and reviews are very welcome. Please tell me what you liked / disliked, where you think I should improve my writing style.

Sakiku


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

Thank you very much for all of your reviews! I received several who thought the story was already over after the last chapter. But I can assure you: there are two more chapters planned, and only then will the story be done.

I've been asked about how all knowledge of shinobi could vanish over the centuries. I do know how that has happened, but so far, there hasn't been a chance for Naruto to discover much about what had happened during those 300 years. So, please be patient, everything will be revealed. Eventually.

And, the most frequent question: Will Naruto meet Akira (or the other way round). You just will have too see, won't you? If I told you now, where would be the surprise?

* * *

**What Might Be – Chapter 3**

Within ten months, General Minamoto has won just as many deciding battles. He has command of more than 50,000 soldiers now, almost a third of Sun's military forces. The original Golden Brigade has dwindled even more in numbers, but their name is as feared by the enemy as never before. Now, other countries think twice before trying to invade Sun's borders because they know what kind of resistance they can expect.

Even within neighboring countries, General Minamoto's name has almost become legendary. Not so much because of his unbelievable success on the battle field, but because he seems to be invincible.

Countless assassins have been sent to remove his threat; he has survived them all. Nobody can tell how exactly he does it, neither their spies within his troops nor their spies within the council. Nobody seems to know why so many assassins are found mauled by wild beasts, floating down rivers far away from their target, or simply rotting away behind some bushes.

Some of them aren't found at all.

Only two or three have come back, but they don't remember anything. Under drugs and hypnosis, they tell about meeting a beautifully tanned, blonde woman who told them that they should return home and forget about their mission. And they had done exactly that, obeying her every word. No matter how the failed assassins are questioned, their story remains the same.

Nobody knows what to make of it because most people of Sun are pale and have black hair.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

Clinging to the ceiling with a thin film of chakra, he listens in on a conversation in the next room. Council members Hare and Bird discuss about General Minamoto and his refusal to attack Wind now that they finally have the strength to.

The angry, almost spitting voice belongs to Hare. "He's just a commoner with no ancestry! Who is he to defy our orders?"

Bird answers in a calm, deep baritone. "The soldiers adore him. People celebrate him as their hero. Everywhere in the streets, they are talking about how courageous he is to defeat Metal, Spirit, and Wind over and over again. They would do whatever he says. You should rather ask yourself: Who are we to give him orders?"

An outraged splutter. "That is heresy! We as the councilors are the embodiments of the Twelve Great Animals! We know what is best for Sun!"

There was a small snort of laughter. "Oh, come on, have you ever felt any of the Hare's power? I tell you: I'm abysmal at flying except down the stairs, and that's something everyone can do. Have you already forgotten that we have been appointed by the chancellor's wish?"

"The chancellor is an old fool! He should never have made that greenhorn a general! He has no idea what this country needs."

"I think it's you who has no idea. We've been at war for how long? Certainly for longer than I've been alive. Have you looked into our streets lately? Only women! The only men who are here are either too young, too old, or crippled. Everyone else has been recruited into the army! And do you know how little food our food stamps allow families because most of our work goes into ammunition and weapon factories? Do you have any idea how much the 'commoners' as you call them long for peace? They don't want to conquer any of Metal's territory. They just want to see their sons, brothers, fathers, and husbands!"

"The chancellor will hear about your betrayal!"

"I think the chancellor already knows that we need peace. Why do you think he hasn't demoted General Minamoto yet?"

"Feh, the chancellor is an old fool. And old fools can die any day!"

Sounds of angry footsteps chasing out of the room, doors slamming. Bird is still there, apparently not moving. After a few minutes, he hears rustling of robes, as if the man was walking away. He barely catches the last sentence on Bird's lips. "Not if I can help it."

Silently, he melts away into the shadows, none of the Council Hall's security detecting him. Human eyes are ridiculously easy to fool with a slight application of chakra, especially now that they have lost all knowledge thereof. The electric eyes and ears throughout the building are a little bit harder to avoid, especially as he has never seen such advanced technology before.

But he has found out that despite their intelligent design, the machines are very stupid. They always follow a pre-programmed plan with exactly the same motions. If you get a hold of those plans, it is ridiculously easy to go unseen and unheard.

Additionally, those plans were made by humans who have long ago forgotten what ninjas are and were capable of. Ninjas are no more than material for fantastic narrations. He hasn't found any hints yet as to what had happened to the great shinobi villages. It is as if they had vanished, together with all their knowledge about chakra.

Sure, there are tales about epic ninja battles, but they are nothing more than bed-time stories for children. Nobody believes in them anymore although there probably is more truth to them than they know. Today, they only believe what they see and what they can do themselves.

Ceilings are almost never monitored, just like windows very high up. Slipping through one of said windows, he vanishes into the night. The next few months will tell whether that formerly small boy, now turned formidable general, has the strength to fulfill his dreams.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

"Damn it, do you have any idea what the world outside these city walls looks like? Fields are covered in soot and blood from our fights. Every forest within a 20-mile-radius has been cut down to fuel iron production, digging for ore ruins large stretches of land, and you wonder why people are complaining?

"They want to live! They don't want all that soot from the factories hover over their fields, they don't want all that dust from ore production rain down onto their crops! Have you never realized that whenever you touch a wall, your hand comes away black and dirty? That the water you drink tastes of hot metal?

"It's exactly the same in every town in this country! Don't you think it's time to stop that instead of going for more war?"

Murmurs fill the Council Hall. The chancellor has called a council meeting, and all twelve of them are present, including the three highest-ranking generals of Sun's army. Some look thoughtful, others angry. A few smile.

General Minamoto is answering to the council for refusing his orders. All have known that it would come to this, but not many have known about the General's way with words. That man is much, much younger than even the youngest council member, barely counting twenty-six summers. But with his conviction and his tongue, he can weave a magic that is rivaled by very few. No wonder all of his troops and the other generals stand behind him.

Councilor Bird, one of the younger members, stands up. "I have to agree with the general. Have you been looking into the streets? No, not those few around our esteemed council hall, but those further out? Those people want peace; they have been living in fear and hunger for far too long."

An angry retort from Ox: "Those are only low, uneducated pawns. Do you really think they know what is good for this country?"

The general's face darkens several shades. "Those 'lowly pawns' as you call them are the ones who fight this war for you. They are the ones who make your weapons. They are the ones who keep you fed and clothed. They are the ones who die on the frontiers. If anyone has the right to decide over the future of this country, it's them!"

Several more angry words fall, and a heated discussion starts. It goes on for more than three hours, turning round in circles again and again. None of the generals says much.

Finally, the chancellor lifts his hand and everyone quiets down. "I have been listening to your squabbling for much too long now. You are arguing like old women over the last piece of bread. But what if that last piece of bread is already long gone?"

After an artful pause, he continues. "I don't think you understand the situation at all, gentlemen. Do you really think you can stop the general?"

"We can arrest him," Hare shouts, "and throw him into a cell!"

Murmurs erupt once again around the table, the generals tensing.

"Silence!"

Everyone flinches at the chancellor's shout. "Who would arrest the general? Military police? No. Military police is loyal to him. Anyone else you could think of? Do you really think that the other generals will arrest their closest friend? They might not be so bold to say it outright, but they share Minamoto's opinion. So, do you see how ridiculous such a venture is?"

During the following uproar, the general gets up slowly, an unreadable mask on his face. "Excuse me," he bellows, and his voice, trained by countless battlefields, cuts through the riot like a sword through butter. He draws attention like a magnet draws iron files.

"Excuse me, your Excellency," he repeats, "I don't think I have expressed myself clearly enough. I don't wish to control military police. I don't wish to rebel against your command. But I also hear my soldiers talk, and they want to go home and see their families. Some haven't been home for more than five years. Do you know how long that is?

"I also hear people in the streets talk, and they want more food, less weapons. They want peace because they have been fighting for more than forty years, and now that we can afford peace for the first time you want to deny them? I don't think such strategy is Amaterasu's will."

"Who are you to know what Amaterasu demands of us?" an angry council member demands. His dark brown robes suggest that he either is Monkey or Horse.

The general shrugs. "Nobody. But do you really think Amaterasu would want to let her people bleed even further?"

The chancellor is silent for a very long time while the council members are talking quietly amongst themselves, throwing the generals more or less heated glares from time to time.

Finally, the chancellor raises his hand once again and everyone quiets down. "I have made my decision. I will not retreat our troops from the border, but we will not cross it, either. General Minamoto, due to circumstances, I will let your insurgency slide. But should you refuse your orders a second time, you will be relieved from your duties. Is that clear?"

"Yes, your Excellency. But if you plan on ordering me to attack Wind or Metal once again, you can relieve me of my duties immediately."

The chancellor frowns. "That is enough; you have what you wanted. Do not provoke us any further. Dog, Serpent, and Bird, would you stay behind, please? Generals, you, too. Everyone else – dismissed."

Distrustfully, Tiger asks. "Why would you want to talk to them, your Excellency?"

The chancellor focuses a hard stare on the councilor. "Because last night, Amaterasu sent me a vision in which I saw Dog, Serpent, and Bird trying to establish diplomatic relations with our neighboring countries. Do you need anything else, Councilor Tiger?"

"No, your Excellency."

With a stoic face that barely conceals his anger, the councilor joins his fellow members in leaving the Council Hall. They have been waiting for him, trying to hear the chancellor's response. Apparently, none of them is happy about the chancellor making political decisions without consulting any of them.

But they cannot do anything because his position as Amaterasu's spokesman on earth gives the chancellor every right to lead Sun alone. That doesn't make the chancellor dear to them, though. The silent observer in the shadows wonders how long the council will keep playing by the rules.

* * *

**A/N:**

As always, I'm glad for any comments. Especially ones that point out mistakes or other things you didn't like (I know that sounds strange, but that helps me improve)

Sakiku


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

Thanks for all your reviews! Your encouragements are much appreciated.

First off, I'd like to apologize for last chapter being so short, but this one isn't much longer. The next one though will be quite a long one, and I should have it by tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow at the most.

And I've been asked why I have placed ' _nigh_ immortal' in my summary. Well, first off, not even the Kyuubi's chakra is unlimited, so after it had run out, Naruto would have died. After three-hundred years, he has come very close. And secondly, I seriously doubt that Kyuubi could heal Naruto's body if he was decapitated. Regrowing missing limbs might be possible for the Kyuubi, but regrowing a head including brains and stuff? I don't think so, which would make Naruto very much dead.

After all that said, enjoy the chapter.

* * *

**What Might Be – Chapter 4**

He is watching councilor Serpent from a distance, just like hundreds of soldiers do. Serpent has been chosen as diplomatic liaison to Metal, and this is first contact with the Metal ambassador.

They have agreed to meeting at the borderline in a large clearing more than 400 feet in diameter. The north-western border of Sun is densely forested with only rare openings in the tight canopy. From there on, the land becomes more and more hilly until the huge mountains Metal is famous for loom at the horizon.

Of course, both Metal and Sun have brought part of their armies to make certain their envoys are protected. But all soldiers have to wait two-hundred feet away, staying behind between the tall trees. Only one envoy of each party is supposed to be in the clearing. Serpent is Sun's representative, and he is standing right in the center, dressed in all his formal regalia.

But by now, the envoy of Metal is more than fashionably late although Metal soldiers are there. He can see that Serpent is trying to hide his uneasiness but failing miserably. It must be quite draining to stand there all alone with several hundred soldiers watching your every move from both sides.

Finally, more than an hour after the time stipulated, the ranks of Metal soldiers part and someone in metallic, reddish robes strides forward until he is only ten feet away from Serpent in his green robes. The Metal ambassador has brilliantly red hair shaped in a bowl-cut, and his features are drawn into a depreciative expression.

They stiffly bow to each other and talk so low that none of the soldiers is able to hear them. He has no such problems though. His sensitive hearing is completely focused onto the two men.

"Greetings to you, Serpent of Sun. Why has your chancellor demanded to talk to the Metallic Triad?"

Serpent, usually a very aloof man, makes every effort to create an agreeable atmosphere despite the affront Metal has dealt him. "Greetings to you, too, Copper of the Metallic Triad. My country feels honored that Metal graces us with the presence of such an illustrious ambassador as you are. Just as Chancellor Sun has already sent word to you, we wish for a peaceful conclusion to the stalemate at our borders."

A haughty sneer on Copper's face, thin lips peeling back to reveal glinting teeth. "Where do you see a stalemate? I see none for our armies are more than strong enough to overwhelm yours."

"That might have been the case ten years ago, but now, we have the upper hand. I'm sure you have heard of the undefeatable Golden General. What you can see behind me is a third of his Golden Brigade, his top elite soldiers who haven't lost any important battles as of yet. I am sure you didn't want to imply they are weak. They have been fighting on two frontiers for the past five years, and they have been winning. And even you have to admit that Wind is a fearsome adversary."

Copper waves arrogantly. "Wind is not as strong as it once was. They have even less arable land than you have, and water is a sparse commodity within their borders. I am sure they would agree to your generous offer of peace and trade because they don't have anything left to fight with. Not so Metal. Our mountains are rich with both nourishment and hiding places. We are strong, and we do not need peace with such pitiful countries as Sun or Wind."

Gradually, Serpent loses his politeness in face of such blatant disrespect for any diplomatic gestures. "You are not interested in trade, either, are you?"

"What can you offer which we do not already have? Our ore deposits are much more abundant than any of yours, our lands produce enough wood and food, and our technology is much more advanced than yours. No, we do not need to trade with the likes of you."

"We have heard that Silver of the Metallic Triad has a daughter who is suffering from an unknown Wind poison. There might be some healers in our armies who know the poison and the antidote."

In a very interesting show of anger, Copper's face flushes nearly the same shade as his robes and his hair. "I knew it! That was the work of you dishonorable curs form Sun! You think that by offering to help a child you have poisoned yourself you will get into the good graces of the Metallic Triad? Get out of my sight and never return again! Should any of you ever step even a foot onto our soil again, we will rip you apart and give your bloody remainders to the Devils of Valhya!"

He can see that Serpent stiffens at those insults, but bows to Copper nonetheless with a last veneer of civility. "We have not made any move to do Silver's daughter any harm; none of our men has poisoned her. But you have clearly indicated that you do not wish for a mutual peace.

"Any man or woman of Metal who crosses the border will be treated as spies with no mercy shown. Should you attack our country again, we will retaliate without hesitation. It was not very enjoyable talking to you, Copper of the Metallic Triad. May it take a long time for our paths to cross again."

Without acknowledging the arrogant Metal envoy again, Serpent turns around and marches back to the safe embrace of Sun soldiers. Those 200 feet are the most dangerous ones as Serpent's back is to the enemy, and appearance does not allow for him to show any unease.

Nothing happens, and Serpent reaches the protecting rows of Sun soldiers unharmed. The back of his green robe has turned dark with sweat.

Copper remains in the center of the field, growing more and more nervous by the minute as if he was waiting for something to happen. Finally, he marches back towards Metal, almost stomping with every step. He looks like a small child who didn't get what he wanted.

With a smile, the observer from the trees gets up and reaches behind the trunk. The gun he now carries is quite bloody on the butt-end, and the barrel is bent at a ninety-degree angle. If one looked very closely, one could find three different kinds of hairs within the blood: long, black, and wavy; short, black, and curly; and short, brown, and wavy. Their owners have long ago left the land of living.

There will be no almost-assassinated member of the Metallic Triad today. He has taken out the three snipers who had been hired by Metal to provide a reason for Metal to declare open war on Sun. And shooting Copper, the Metal envoy; during a diplomatic meeting certainly would have been a valid one.

Smiling, he ghosts off.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

Word has gotten around in well-informed circles that any time the Golden General is around, all assassinations fail. Nobody knows what kind of magic the Golden General weaves, but anyone trying to quietly eliminate the general or important people in his vicinity simply vanishes, and more often than not, is found later on quite dead.

But the Golden General is not always around. At the moment, he and a third of his Golden Brigade are at the eastern border to draft a peace treaty with Wind while most of his army patrols Metal borders. And, anyways, maybe the Golden General's legendary luck does not extend towards poisons.

The hooded man looks around; the wine master is gone and the servant isn't here yet. A quick hand slithers out of brown folds and drops a pinch of white powder into the jug of wine. The one who sold him the powder had assured him that an old man, especially one as old as the chancellor, will not live long after ingesting the poison.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

Negotiations with Wind are progressing in leaps and bounds. Bird and Westwind understand each other very well, and Wind is more than happy to trade some of its finest glass and porcelain for wood and crops. The plains they have met at are vast and dry, sparse grass barely covering topmost soil. What is one of the hottest places in Sun is seen as one of the colder forecourts to the hellish desert most of Wind consists of.

The same difference is in their clothes: While Wind soldiers are swathed in long, wide gowns with thick burnouses on their heads, Sun soldiers sweat heavily beneath their thick fabric.

Some of the more daring Sun soldiers have tried trading Wind soldiers for their garbs, and those meetings always are a great source of entertainment. Soldiers from both camps come and watch those verbal duels between drawling, slow-talking Sun citizens, and the almost singing elaborations of Wind soldiers. Most of the time, a few burnouses and a few wooden trinkets change owners before a superior breaks up the party.

At the moment, he watches General Minamoto tend to the paperwork such a logistic nightmare as leading an army of 50,000 men produces.

He thinks it strange that none of the people he has seen so far bear any marks of bloodline abilities. But perhaps those families are hiding away because they have become outcast for their different looks. If the majority of the population has lost all knowledge of chakra, who is to say they haven't lost all knowledge about bloodlines, too? Especially as the latter ones are more obscure.

Even three-hundred years ago, when he had still been in Konoha, all techniques concerning creation and alteration of bloodlines have vanished. Most information on their blood-related abilities had been guarded closely by the respective clans, and they had already started dying out when he had left. To think of it, he was the one who had killed the last two Uchiha…

The beast growls within his stomach. It is strangely comforting for him to know that the beast doesn't hate him for those centuries of starvation he has forced upon it. And, he thinks that in some animalistic way, the beast even cares for him. After those failed negotiations at Metal's border, it certainly is nice to see that something goes right for once.

"General, General!"

An excited soldier bursts into General Minamoto's tent, waving a piece of paper. "A telegram from Soleil! The chancellor is very sick, and he demands your presence immediately!"

The general frowns. "Let me see."

His frown grows even deeper when he reads the message, completely ignoring the soldier who still stands at attention.

"Inform council member Bird at once", he absently demands. "Tell him to come here, but do not tell him of the message's content if he is in company of the Wind ambassador."

"Yes, Sir!"

A few minutes later, a carefully neutral councilor arrives, dressed in his formal robes. He stiffly sits down on a collapsible chair. "What is so important that you had to interrupt my diplomatic dinner with Westwind?"

Without any words, the general hands Bird the message, and the councilor starts frowning, too. "That is a most… unfortunate… moment. A week or two, and we will have our treaty."

The general nods. "Add week or two and we might have a new chancellor. This sounds serious. It worries me that the chancellor has fallen ill so severely. Do you think Wind will sign the treaty when there is the chance that our Excellency might die very soon?"

Bird looks thoughtful. "Wind is desperate for peace, but they aren't stupid. If one of the more radical council members becomes chancellor, there are few chances that they will uphold any treaty. The telegram did not demand for me explicitly, so I could stay here with the Wind envoy. But it looks as if our chancellor was seriously ill. Usually, the whole council is present when a new chancellor is named, and I think he will have to do that, soon. He is more than 70 years old, after all. That would mean that we have to interrupt negotiations completely.

"But he hasn't demanded for me yet. I am not certain whether I should stay or not."

Bird is kneading his fingers, a sure sign that he is nervous. Sighing, the General stares at a tent pole.

"And just when things went that well… I've got close to 2000 men here. Wind's got almost double the amount on the other side, and they are used to fighting in such terrain. I know my second in command is capable, but this is not a good situation. Should Wind decide that these are only delaying tactics to cover that we don't seriously think of signing the treaty, they will attack. Two on one odds are bad, even for my Golden Brigade. On the other hand, if you leave at the same time as me, there will be no high-ranking Sun representative left. Wind could come to the same conclusion as before."

Having grown considerably paler, Bird looks anywhere but at the General.

"I… I don't think Wind will attack if I stay. Westwind is very moderate, and no doubt their spies will have notified them of the situation. And, General Minamoto, I believe in your Golden Brigade."

Slowly, the general nods. "I sincerely hope you won't regret your decision. I will take only twenty men with me, so most of them can ensure your safety. Let's hope that it is only a small illness the chancellor has caught, nothing serious. And that none of _our_ more revolutionary fractions are the cause of the chancellor's all-too-sudden sickness."

"Yes, let's hope so. While you are gone, could you arrange for it that I get a daily report on the Chancellor's health?"

"Any news we receive will immediately be forwarded to you. Anything else you need before I leave? Oh, yes. Soldier Kimihara?"

The tent flap opens, and the same soldier who has brought the telegram comes in. "Yes, Sir?"

"See if you can find Colonel Suzuka. It's important. And tell battalion two, squads four and five to pack immediately. They are to head for Soleil with two pick-ups in two hours. I will meet up with them west of the encampment."

"At once, Sir."

Turning towards the council member once again, the General continues. "Colonel Suzuka is very experienced and a great tactician. You will be as safe with him as possible under those circumstances. The two of you already have been introduced, so I hope you will excuse me. Every minute counts now. Suzuka will arrive here as soon as he can, and then you will be able to discuss strategies in my absence. If you think it wise, you can take the telegram with you and show it to the Wind ambassador. Anything else I might have forgotten?"

Bird shakes his head. "I can't think of anything for the moment. Give my sincerest well-wishes to the chancellor, and I pray that Amaterasu will grant him a long life."

"Me, too, councilor, me too."

* * *

**A/N:**

Anything you didn't like? Found any plot-holes? Want to criticize my writing style? Then please leave a review; I appreciate anything that will help me improve my stories.

Sakiku


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

Well, this is the last chapter of the story. Thank you so much for all your reviews; I really enjoyed them.

Have fun with the last, extra-long chapter – I haven't split it into two parts because several people have remarked that my chapters are too short.

* * *

**What Might Be – Chapter 5**

He has concealed himself as one of the women tending to the chancellor. Walking through the grand hallways of the chancellor's private home, he marvels about the lavishly decorated walls and ceiling.

His spying has never led him into the chancellor's private rooms before. Sunlight is glinting on golden decorations and huge paintings, but even the chancellor's abode has suffered during the war. Everything looks old; there are blank, pock-like marks where paint and gold is missing, and the metal has lost all of its luster. Nothing from paintings to furniture looks younger than fifty years.

This is the first time in fifteen years that he has purposely left the boy's – the young man's, the general's – side. But he can travel much faster than a general with an escort of twenty men, now that he has regained his strength. If he wants to do anything to help, there is no time to lose.

Finally, he arrives at the chancellor's chambers. They consist of a huge master bedroom with adjoined bathroom, both in the same grand but run-down style as the rest of the mansion. A big bed with many pillows and blankets takes up a corner of the bedroom, and at first, he doesn't even see the sleeping chancellor against the linen.

When he finally gains sight of the man, he almost flinches in sympathy. The chancellor's pallor is waxen with thumbnail-big red spots, and his muscles are trembling. His sweat stinks sourly, metallic of death and decay. That is no normal sickness. He can smell the poison in the air. The acrid tang feels almost exactly the deadly liquid Anko used to dip her special kunai into. Sadly, he has never asked her about the antidote.

From his looks, the chancellor won't survive the next day, and he probably will not wake up until he dies. But the chancellor needs to nominate a successor; internal upheaval in such dire times would be fatal to Sun.

Well, if he wanted to, he could… with a little bit of henge and…

But that would run counter to anything he has done so far. So far, he has only ever made sure that the boy doesn't die by the hands of attackers from behind. That those too cowardly to confront the young man openly do not succeed. He has never fought the general's battles. And he will not start now.

But that doesn't mean he can't try and help an old, dying man.

There are several other nurses and doctors around, and the doors are constantly opening and closing. Everyone looks very worried, the physicians pale with the knowledge they can't do anything for Amaterasu's incarnation.

Staying undetected in such ruckus will be hard, but he thinks he can do it. A carefully cast genjutsu later, and everyone looking at the chancellor only sees what they already have seen so far: a sickly, pale, old man sleeping fitfully in his bed.

Carefully, he nears the chancellor, and nobody takes notice of him.

Excellent. All the practice on concealment jutsus for the past fifteen years hasn't been for naught then.

Looking the thin, frail body up and down, he tries to decide where to start. It's a pity that he has never properly learned how to do medical jutsus; all he knows comes from watching Sakura tend to other people. And as he doesn't have a Sharingan unlike someone else he knew, watching doesn't help him much in regard to learning new techniques. Well, he will have to do his best.

But where to start? Chakra control has never been one of his strongest points…

Slowly, he tries to feel for the chancellor's energy, and what he finds is not very reassuring. His chakra is sputtering and flickering like a dying candle, always threatening to give out. Should he take the risk and…

Sakura never mentioned anything about _not_ sharing his chakra with someone, but that might be because the idea is so stupid and goes against so many medical principles that she's never thought about it.

Well, it's just about the only thing he can do; he lacks knowledge and precision control for anything else. And, judging by the decaying, metallic scent of the poison, it's not as if he could make the situation any worse. Without his help, the chancellor will certainly die.

Sighing, he gathers a cold, sweaty, wrinkled hand into his own. The fingers are stiff and cramped, with swollen joints that have lost much of their agility. A very weak pulse is fluttering against his skin, signs of a heart laboring fruitlessly against subtle death. The nurses and doctors don't really take notice of what he is doing. How is he supposed to start their chakra transfer?

Aligning their fingers so that their palms are facing each other, he quickly realizes the different sizes of their hands. He is in a woman's body, so no wonder that his hands are much smaller than the chancellor's ones. That way, their tenketsu points will never touch.

Suddenly, he's got an idea. A quick henge later, and a second chancellor is kneeling next to the first one. His respect for the old man grows exponentially because he can feel the stiffness of age in his joints and bones. It is part of the burden the chancellor has to carry every day. And the genjutsu still hides him and what he is doing.

He smirks. Now, their chakra openings should be exactly in the same places. Pressing the chancellor's limp palm against his, he gradually lets chakra build in his hand, hoping that somehow it will be absorbed.

But it doesn't seem to work that way. The beast within his stomach growls. Their palms grow hotter and hotter by the minute, but it doesn't feel like the old man has gotten any of his chakra. What is he doing wrong?

When he finally rips his hand away, he can see small blisters on his whole palm. The old man has similar blisters, but in the center of those blisters, there's an unharmed spot. Is that a sign that the man's chakra openings are absorbing at least some of the energy?

Almost jumping from joy, he continues, trying to focus his chakra even more so that it can flow directly into the chancellor's tenketsu points. Dimly, he realizes that he should be glad that everyone has forgotten about chakra use because that way, he doesn't have to split his concentration between holding up the genjutsu and channeling chakra. The transfer takes up almost his entire mind. If they were trying to dispel his genjutsu, he would be in serious trouble.

Their palms pressed against each other grow uncomfortably hot again, but not so much that it leaves damage. He doesn't know how long he keeps it up; he never feels any drain on his chakra, and the old man doesn't look any better, either. His breathing is still shallow, and his heartbeat too quick. Only the beast's growling has become louder.

To really make a difference, he probably would have to transfer chakra along the torso, but that is also where he can wreak the most damage should he do something wrong. And overloading an old man's chakra channels is much too easy, especially as they never have been used consciously.

To avoid that dilemma, he tries the other hand. He thinks he's slowly getting the hang of it as this time, he doesn't burn the old man at all.

It is hard focusing chakra when he uses so little that he almost doesn't feel it. His respect for Sakura grows. But that doesn't help him. He is still looking for a way to save the man, but he gradually comes to the realization that he can't stop the poison. He can only strengthen the man's chakra that the poison is eating away.

And that task is like filling water into a jug that has a hole in its bottom. Futile. Is that why the beast is growling?

"Do not trouble yourself, my Lady Amaterasu. I know I am going to die today."

Sharply, he looks up at the chancellor, who has opened his eyes. Those dark orbs are sunk deep into his face, and his wrinkled skin folds limply over pronounced bones. His gaze is unfocused, but the chancellor is undeniably awake. How lucid is he?

He bows as much as he can without letting go of the chancellor's hand. "Your Excellency. I am not Amaterasu. I am very sorry that I cannot heal you. But I hope I can give you enough strength to name a successor so that this land will not drown in war."

The chancellor's dry lips crack when he smiles. "But you are sharing Amaterasu's Fire of Life with me, so you must have been blessed by her. Thank you so much for giving me this chance. Would you be so kind to tell someone to go and inform the council? I will not let your gift go to waste."

Only through the way the chancellor never looks at him directly, he realizes that the chancellor can't see him. The poison must have affected his eyes first, but apparently not his mind. He is glad for this blessing.

"Your Excellency, do not talk so much. I will give you as much energy as you can handle, and then, I will call in the council. You must conserve your strength."

"My Lady Amaterasu is too kind do me."

He almost sighs at the old man's insistence on his divine origin, but he doesn't correct him anymore. He merely concentrates on keeping as tight a focus on his chakra as possible, studying the old mans skin color every few minutes.

His waxen pallor is slowly taking on a rosier flush, and the tremors grow easier. The smell of death though has grown more potent, gaining a more pungent, charred odor. And the beast's growl tapers off to a low, desperate whine.

A small twitch in the old man's hand reminds him that the chancellor is still awake. The man feebly tries to draw away, his skin color quite healthy by now.

"Thank you, Lady Amaterasu, but I don't think I can take any more of your Fire. I am merely mortal, and I do not think mortals are made for carrying your essence."

The small muscles around the old man's eyes are tightened in pain, making the wrinkles there much more prominent. He doesn't know whether that is a good sign or a bad one, but he knows he will have to stop sometime. He cannot keep filling up the chancellor's dying life energy forever, and he doesn't want to force anything onto the old man.

Slowly, he cuts the chakra flow off and lets the chancellor's hand go. "I am sorry for hurting you. That was not intention. Rest now while I call the council together."

"Yes, Lady Amaterasu."

He almost cringes at the honorable title the chancellor has bestowed upon him; he is no god, and if he had god-like powers none of that would have happened. But that is not important right now.

Quickly, he changes his henge back into the young woman he has entered the room as and gradually lifts the genjutsu. To cover up the small hitch between illusion and reality, he grabs the nearest nurse by her arm, and calls excitedly.

"Look, look, your Excellency is awake, and he has demanded to talk to the council!"

The whole room is staring at them, and that is the moment when the last of the genjutsu dissolves. As all attention is on him, nobody realizes the strange jump in reality when the original replaces the illusion once again. Then he is pushed away by several doctors, who all crowd around the chancellor's bed.

Shaking his head slightly, he goes for the council members himself as everyone seems too amazed at the chancellor's sudden return to consciousness. The beast has become completely quiet.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

The chancellor's bedroom has been turned into even more of an assembly room than it had been before. Ten of the twelve council members are standing in a half-circle around the chancellor's bed, several servants trying to make everyone comfortable, and a doctor is checking his patient very thoroughly. He is still in his disguise as female nurse and is holding the doctor's tray.

It takes most of his will power not to smile at the doctor's obvious bafflement, but he knows now is not the time to laugh. The pungent odor of sickness and decay has grown far stronger, and he wonders how the others can't smell it.

"Doctor, that is enough," sounds the cranky voice of the chancellor, "despite how well I look, I know that my time has come. Now, be good and let me talk to my council; I do not want to waste this chance by letting you take up all my time."

Admonished, the doctor bows deeply and retreats sulkingly into a corner of the room. "As you wish, your Excellency."

All council members wear their formal attire, even their animal masks. While he had been informing the council, the chancellor had been dressed in his golden robes and propped up with a few pillows at his back. The man is breathing heavily, but despite his physical hardships, he looks serene although his face is very flushed.

Everyone is waiting for him to talk, and he doesn't let them wait for a long time. With a surprisingly strong voice, the chancellor opens the meeting in all bluntness. "The illness in my veins has stolen my sight. Is everyone present?"

Tiger steps forth although the chancellor can't see him. "Everyone but Councilors Bird and Dog, your Excellency. Both of them have been negotiating at our borders, and they thought it crucial not to leave Wind and Spirit ambassadors alone. Before your unfortunate illness, you have demanded for General Minamoto; he is on his way to help secure Soleil. He should arrive within the next day."

"But Serpent is here?"

"His negotiations with Metal have failed. He has returned yesterday afternoon."

Serpent takes a small step forward and bows. "I am here, your Excellency."

The chancellor nods into the direction his voice comes from. "Good. Lady Amaterasu has graciously given me the strength to talk to you one last time. Lady Amaterasu told me to name Her next vessel so that Her country might finally find peace."

The chancellor breaks off, his formerly intense flush turning an even deeper shade of red. His color makes the doctor and him in his borrowed nurse body worry. It doesn't look healthy at all, and it seems to pain the chancellor quite a bit. Nonetheless, he keeps talking.

"There have been very few incidents when the next chancellor has not been chosen from the ranks of council members."

To his horror, he sees small, bluish-reddish flames oozing out of the chancellor's pores. And judging by the gasps, he isn't the only one to see that phenomena. The charred smell in the room is growing stronger. Is that the chakra he has given to the chancellor?

With horrible effort, the chancellor forgoes all lengthy ceremonies and forces out between clenched teeth: "I hereby call upon General Akira Minamoto!"

The chancellor abruptly cuts off with a scream as the flames cover almost his entire body, drowning out the councilors' uproar on the unexpected nomination. Why is the chakra burning his body? Hasn't it already been absorbed?

He watches in horror how the chakra he has lent the old man bursts forth in a single blaze, consuming flesh like candle wax. It is so bright that he almost can't look at the chancellor's emaciated frame on the bed, and black plumes of acrid smoke clog his nose.

In a last defying gesture, the burning scheme convulses, its voice screeching void of all human traces. "Serve… Her… as you… Lady Amaterasu!"

That final, ear-piercing wail cuts off all conversation. Everyone watches in horror as the body collapses, the flames gradually dying with a haunted flicker. It is silent for a long time, and from far away, he hears a low keening.

On the bed, there are the charred remainders of a golden robe, a sheet, several blankets, and beneath them all, a human body. A few councilors and the doctor look sick. The acrimonious, black smoke is suffocating the room in a grey twilight that is made even darker by the former blaze.

Now he knows why Sakura has never said anything about transferring chakra that way. He cannot rip his gaze away from blackened skin and clawing hands frozen in agonizing pain. The keening grows louder.

In front of his eyes, the old man is still burning with bluish-reddish flames of chakra, the afterimage of the arching body having burned itself deep into his retina.

"Kirina!"

He doesn't listen. The keening has reached an almost unbearable pitch.

"Kirina!"

A hand shakes his arm, relieving him of his tray. Abruptly, the keening cuts off. Oh, Kirina is the name of the girl he has copied. From far, he can see the doctor touching him, but he doesn't feel it.

"Get her out of the room," he hears a voice call, but it pales next to the chancellor's last scream. He had only wanted to help…

Much later, he feels arms that are wrapped around him, rocking him slowly. And he realizes that he is crying.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

Amused, Councilor Bird watches the new chancellor argue with his soldiers. All the curious onlookers who are trying to get a glimpse of their new head of state have been pushed back into a half-circle, but they still hear every word.

"But I have to go there alone! It's important!"

"But your security is even more important, Chancellor. I cannot let you go into a dark alley alone, even if you have been living there during your childhood."

Raking his black hair with both hands, the chancellor finally sighs. "Fine. Two of you can come with me, but keep at least ten feet away."

Colonel Suzuka, commander of the chancellor's personal bodyguard, exchanges an irritated glance with Bird. Bird merely shakes his head pityingly. "Go on. You know how stubborn he is. Hope and pray his luck as Golden General has extended to the Golden Chancellor."

Suzuka grumbles. "I'm not being paid for hoping and praying. Yamanachi, Yoshimaru, follow the chancellor and make sure he comes out alive."

The chancellor's smile could lighten the deepest night as bright as day, but Suzuka doesn't seem impressed. "I swear, if you pull such a stunt again, Akira, I'll resign as your bodyguard!"

Still smiling, the chancellor vanishes into the alley, completely ignoring the gaping crowds that have gathered outside the small area soldiers have sealed off.

Word about the miraculous inauguration of Chancellor Minamoto has already spread; every village knows by now that the chancellor's reign has been blessed by Lady Amaterasu herself.

Bird shakes his head. What he would have given to have been there… From what Serpent and Ox have told him, Amaterasu must have taken residence within the late chancellor's body, consuming it with Her godly Fire in order to call upon the next chancellor. Not even Hare and Tiger have made any move to doubt the legitimacy of Chancellor Minamoto's inauguration.

A few minutes later, the chancellor emerges once again from the alley, a frown on his face. Colonel Suzuka calms down almost immediately upon seeing his charge unharmed, and Bird has to stifle a laugh. The colonel acts like a mother with child.

In his hands, the chancellor is holding something, glancing at it every now and then. Finally, he shows it to Suzuka. "Can you read that?"

Studying the paper more closely, the colonel shakes his head. "Nope. To me, this scrawl is completely illegible."

"Bird?"

Taking a step closer, he looks over the chancellor's shoulder. The commander was right; whoever wrote this must not have given any thoughts to neatness. But… something in the way strokes have been left out so methodically seems familiar to him.

"May I take a closer look?"

Wordlessly, the chancellor hands him the paper. Something does not seem quite right with the way the characters are painted; their proportions look off and unfinished, almost as if…

Turning the paper upside down, he briefly glares at the colonel and the chancellor, who both look away with embarrassment. Now, there is quite a bit more method to the mad scrawl, but he still cannot read it.

At least he recognizes the style of writing and knows who can. "That looks like one of the older ninja writings Dragon has shown me. He likes studying ancient artifacts; perhaps you should show it to him."

The colonel expresses his doubt. "Ancient ninja writings? This piece of paper isn't even a month old."

Bird shrugs. "You can't read it, I can't read it, the chancellor can't read it. Why not ninja writings?"

"Perhaps because all ninja died out 100 years ago, if they even existed in the first place?"

An amused chancellor interrupts them. "Councilor, colonel, no need to start arguing here in front of all people. When we are back in Soleil, I will show the paper to Dragon as you have suggested. Perhaps he can make it out. But for now, I have finished what I came here for, so we can return to the main plaza. I have a speech to make, after all."

With those words, Chancellor Minamoto turns towards the cheering crowd, councilor and colonel following a respectful step behind. It is going to be a long day.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

A month later, a two-page report from Councilor Dragon wanders across the chancellor's desk.

_Your Excellency,_ it reads.

_Councilor Bird was indeed correct to suspect the note attached to be a form of ninja shorthand. As the document does not seem to be the original, I can only give you a gross estimation of its age based on the dialect it is written in. My guess is three centuries, give or take fifty years. Similar ninja messages have been found in Fire and Wind, occasionally in Cloud and Rock, too. The earliest representatives of this kind of shorthand date back almost 400 years, and slightly modified styles had been used for almost three centuries afterwards. _

_Contrary to popular belief, ninjas are not fictitious. The reason that so little is known about them is that they inhabited only very few villages, where they largely kept to themselves. Occasionally, they hired themselves out for missions, but they kept their secrets within their walls. _

_With the invention of higher technology, especially guns and tanks, they were split into two groups: those that endorsed the new weapons, and those who clung to the old ways. Nobody knows why, but one day, approximately 100 – 150 years ago, a fierce war broke out between the two factions. Many died during those years, and the survivors scattered to the four winds. They were never heard of again._

_Most of their knowledge vanished together with them. There are only very few translations of their shorthand into common tongue, so I was forced to give my best guess at several occasions._

_Here is what the letter approximately says._

**_Greetings infantile dimwit,_** **(probably opening phrase along the meaning _Greetings to you_)**

**_You not tell me become highest Sun_ (reference to _noon_? _Chancellor_?) _not there. Will not see you again if well. Your dream_ (literally: '_hallucinations while sleeping_') _has felt now reality. My dream still working but you help greatly_. (literally: _'give much aid'_) **

**_Congratulations. Take your care_ (perhaps: _'Use your abilities'_) _and turn the greatest glowing highest Sun again to our lands, see ever?_**

_**A coming lack of sun,**_

_**Ghost-that-scares-children**_

_Your Excellency, I give you my sincerest apologies for my lack of ability. With more samples to work with, or the original, I could perhaps give you a more accurate translation. But as things are, this is the best I can do._

_Yours, humbly_

_Dragon of Sun Council_

With a frown on his face, the chancellor finishes the report. That had been an interesting history lesson, but not much more. He doesn't know what to make of that strange translation. Was that letter a child's joke?

Sighing, the chancellor puts the report aside. He has more important duties to fulfill than chasing after a ghost from his childhood. Like keeping peace at his borders, for example, or receiving the next Wind dignitary.

When he is honest with himself, he hadn't really expected to find the man again. He hadn't even been sure whether the man really had existed. Who knows what the imagination of a lively child can create out of a well-crafted statue.

The paper left in the place the figure had been sitting in had briefly let him dwell in the past, but now it is time to move on. After all, the promise he had give to the man (his imaginary friend?) so many years ago comes first. Soon, he forgets about the report that has been buried beneath countless other files and papers.

A month later, after one of his office aids cleaned his desk, said report lands on top of a stack once again. Not remembering the folder, the chancellor briefly looks at Dragon's neat calligraphy. He almost doesn't bother reading it until a small, scrawled note attached to the paper catches his eyes. He is almost a hundred percent sure that it hadn't been sent with the original message. The writing looks unpracticed, but at least it is still legible and not in any foreign language or shorthand.

_Morons altogether! Should have known you can't read properly. Boy, tell that Dragon guy that his translation isn't worth the paper it's written on. Well, it sure gave me a good laugh, but here's what the note really says:_

_**Hey, brat!**_

_**Sorry I can't be there for you to tell me you've become chancellor. And if everything goes well, you won't see me again. Well, how do you feel now that your dream's become reality?**_

_**Me, I'm still working on my dream, but you've helped me a great deal already. Thanks for that! Take care of yourself, and become the greatest Golden Chancellor this country has ever seen!**_

_**Your future Shadow of Sun,**_

_**Mr. Spooky**_

Smiling, the chancellor reads the text a few times. So he had _not_ imagined that the figure everyone had thought to be a statue was alive. He is glad that the half-starved man that had been such a quiet part of his childhood has finally found the will to live again. He just wonders where he is now – and who wrote that second translation.

---oooxxx!xxxooo---

Undetected by humans and technology, a shadow watches the chancellor read.

The shadow smiles. While helping that boy achieve his wish, his own dream of becoming kage has finally come within reach.

But, as things go, nothing turns out as planned. Instead of being head of a village, he has found a more literal interpretation of 'kage'. And instead of being associated with Fire, he will become the first Sun shadow.

The beast within his stomach growls. The future certainly is going to be interesting.

* * *

**A/N:**

Ok, first for all those who wanted Naruto and Akira to meet: I hope you aren't too disappointed, but for this story, my focus was on showing how Naruto gradually found his purpose in life again. Ok, it also was an experiment to see whether I could pull off the creation of a whole new world with its own history (well, as much of a new world as you can make in fanfictions without going completely AU).

But I never intended for them to meet in the first place because that would have given Akira (and with him, Sun implicitly, too) too much power in that ninja-free world. They would have started relying on Naruto's super-human abilities, and that never is a good thing. Neither for the storyline (why should Sun make any efforts to grow when they have someone who can do anything they want for them?) nor for the story itself (I think that god-like characters who can do anything and don't have any flaws except brooding too much over past mistakes are boring).

So, now you have my reasons for ending the story this way. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did while writing it. Until the next one!

Sakiku


End file.
